At the End of a Pockett Book for Year 1768

’Tis finish’d and now the Account to peruse,

Sure the Events of a Year a short Hour may amuse

What only amuse me an Hour or two!

Why what could I ever expect it would do?

I would wish for improvement in whate’re I read! 5

And a twelvemonth in Life is no trifle indeed,

With Care I’ll review ev’ry Page – Pen lie still –

I’ll see if the Time has been past well, or ill –

Now what shall I say? – in such trifles ’tis spent

There’s nothing to boast of – nor much to repent; 10

But tho’ I find nothing that much can be blamed,

I’m sure of my Journal I’m greatly ashamed.

What a Twelve-Month is here! how insipid and dull,

With what nonsense and trifling each part on’t full.

Yet if ev’ry one’s Time in this manner were used, 15

’Twere better by far than to have it abused

With Dressing, Coquetting, in Bustle and Noise, )

Which Person, Health, Fortune, and Fame soon destroys, )

And which can bestow no substantial Joys. )

1768

Text: Box 28, Reeves Collection, Bodleian Library; Whelan, Nonconformist Women Writers, vol. 4, pp. 167-68.